


Clean slate

by Heidigard



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, First Kiss, Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Reunions, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27548359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heidigard/pseuds/Heidigard
Summary: Sam and Dean return to the bunker after defeating Chuck. Jack has restored humanity and technically, they are free, but now that the dust has settled, they are both struggling with their grief. Then, the phone rings...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 38
Kudos: 228





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This may not be a popular opinion, but I was not happy with episode 15x19 at all. So here is another coda, and OMG, it's going to be multi-chapter! And my first fix-it (I think).

Hearing Jack mention Castiel’s name, seeing their boy walk down the road, away from them – it wriggles something loose in Dean. It’s another goodbye he is not prepared for. Yet he feels a sense of peace he’s never felt before. He feels clean somehow, like his emotions are purer; his joy, but also his sorrow.

Later, when Sam and he return to the bunker, they sit on the map table, swinging their legs and drinking beer, like two boys, marvelling at their new-found freedom – a freedom that tastes bittersweet. They have lost so much along the way.

Dean is wondering whether it was actually worth it. He can’t really envision the future for himself – for either of them, if he is honest. The pain of loss is still too raw in his heart, and when he looks sideways at Sam, he can tell that Sam can’t either, not after happiness was within his grasp and was ripped away yet again.

This should be a clean slate for them, but it is really not. Too many scars, too many lines drawn and crossed again and again, too much sacrifice and trauma litter their past.

They nurse their beers, quiet pooling between them, cool and heavy.

Eventually, Sam speaks. “I’m sorry about Cas, you know?”

Suddenly, Dean can’t breathe. He takes another hasty gulp from his bottle, hoping to dislodge the obstruction in his throat. “Thanks, man,” he says, tonelessly.

And just like that, all the tears that he had suppressed during these last couple of tense, frantic days are back with a vengeance. They seem to have bred and multiplied in the lightless, empty caverns of his heart while he was busy powering through their ultimate apocalypse, but he has burned through his last reserves now. Slowly, they come forth, one by one, rolling down his cheeks gently, quietly, clear crystal purified by the fire of their final struggle.

He can hear Sam sniffle beside him, but he refuses to raise his head, choosing to watch his blurry thumb nail pick at the beer bottle label instead.

Sam’s voice wobbles slightly. “I miss him, Dean. I really do. He should be here with us now.”

Dean just nods, the movement shaking lose more tears that are clinging to his stubble. They drop to the floor, bursting on impact in big, wet splashes across the polished wood. It looks almost like blood.

After a pause where they both just watch the splotches spread, slowly combining into tiny puddles at their feet, Sam continues. “And I miss Eileen.” The statement ends in a keening sob that Sam swallows quickly but not quickly enough.

On instinct, Dean raises an arm and puts it around his little brother’s shoulders, drawing him in. “I know, Sammy. And I’m so sorry. You two deserved to be happy together. I would have liked to see that.”

The back of his nose burns. He can feel his chin start to quiver, the corners of his mouth drawing down with the weight of words pushing against the back of his teeth. He doesn’t know whether it’s the need to help his brother, to support him and show him that he _understands_ , that he _knows_ what Sam is going through, or whether it’s just a selfish need to unload his burden and share it with someone that makes him say it. Maybe it’s a combination of both, but he can’t hold it in any longer, can’t sit on the terrible, beautiful truth for a minute more.

“Cas said he loved me. Before he left. He said he loved me.” He marvels at the words, still unable to quite believe them, even though he remembers Cas’ tears, his earnest eyes, his content smile when he told him. The words feel unreal because they are such a perfect mirror image of what is resonating in his own heart.

Sam’s reaction is not what he expects. A sad chuckle erupts from his brother, quickly drowned in a fresh sob. “I know he did. Was obvious, wasn’t it?”

And Sam is right. Now that he thinks about it, it had been there for years, in the long looks, the shy glances, the little gestures and teasing words… the impossible sacrifices.

“I’m glad he told you,” Sam adds. “It was eating him up. I could tell. Same way it did you.”

Now, it’s Dean’s turn to choke out a laugh. “Guess you are right.” His perceptive nerd of a brother had gotten there before him, as usual. “I just wish I had gotten a chance to tell him.”

The admission is _easy_. After all these years, all his careful work put into suppressing his emotions, burying his feelings, it just tumbles out of his mouth like it’s nothing, a simple truth, just as much a part of him as his eye colour.

They both lapse into silence again, leaning against each other. Dean is soothed just by the feeling of his brother breathing next to him, his ribcage expanding and contracting, lifting the arm slung around his shoulders. The solid, warm weight of him, alive and unharmed, is a steady comfort.

They are startled by the ringing of Sam’s phone in his back pocket. Sam’s posture straightens and Dean’s arm slips off, down his back. Wiping his eyes quickly on his sleeve and snuffling to clear his congested nose, Sam retrieves the handset. When he sees the caller ID, his eyes go wide. He stabs at the answer button.

“Bobby?” The shock is evident in Sam’s voice, too.

Dean stares at him, eyebrows raised. He can just hear the other end of the line with Bobby’s exasperated voice. “Yeah, it’s me. Where the hell have you gone off to? Stuff is going down here, I’m telling you. Everyone’s back in the shelter. I mean, the ones who we saw disappear not two minutes ago. _Which is why I’m asking_ : where are you?”

“Uhm,” Sam stalls, sharing a wide-eyed look with Dean. “Actually, Bobby, we’re at the bunker. After you guys disappeared… I mean, that was, like, almost a week ago! We thought you were dead!”

“Obviously not,” Bobby says.

Sam makes a sound that is halfway between a sob and a laugh. “So everyone’s ok? Charlie is there, too?”

“That’s what I just said!” Bobby grouses. “Only ones missing are you and Jack. So you better tell me what’s going on!”

Sam takes a few seconds to compose himself enough to answer. “We won, Bobby,” he simply says. “And Jack brought everyone back.” His eyes meet Dean’s again, wide and incredulous.

“He what?” Bobby asks. “What are you talking about?”

But the phone in Sam’s hand beeps at that moment, indicating another call coming in on the second line. Sam looks down at it to check the ID and all colour leaves his face.

“Sorry, Bobby, I’ll call you back,” he stammers before almost fumbling the phone in his hand in his haste to stab the answer-button. Before Dean can ask, Sam has jumped off the table, hunched over, phone pressed to his ear.

“Eileen?” he says, the name trembling on his lips like the syllables might shake him apart at any moment. Dean can’t hear the reply, but a moment later, Sam holds the phone up in front of him so the person on the other end can read his lips via the video link, and Eileen’s confused face appears clearly on screen. Sam is suddenly crying so hard, that his garbled words become completely unintelligible. Luckily, he only has to mouth them at Eileen for her to understand.

She is standing next to her car. Like everyone else, she is in the exact spot she disappeared from days ago. Dean stays in the background as Sam, after having settled down a little, explains what happened. He watches his brother’s face light up with joy and a stinging sense of melancholy settles in his stomach. Even though it took a little time, it seems like everyone came back, after all, right where they were snatched from. Everyone except…

“Cas!” Dean gasps, suddenly on his feet as a thought strikes him like lightning. Of course! Jack hadn’t mentioned anything specific. In fact, when he had been talking to them for the last time, he had already sounded distant, other-worldly, more like a greeting card then a person. He had also claimed that he would be a “hands-off” God… but that was _after_ he was actually quite _hands-on_ and brought everybody back.

Everybody?

What if…

Dean races from the room towards the stairs to the lower levels. He can hear Sam calling after him, momentarily distracted from his conversation with Eileen, but he can’t spare the breath to answer. He shoots around the corner, almost tripping over the steps and finally skidding to a halt in front of door 7B. It’s closed, just as they have left it.

He stares at the gleaming golden number, hope and fear warring in his chest. Behind this door is the place where Cas told Dean he loved him. It’s also the place where Cas was taken from him. He is scared to open the door and find the room empty, and if he is honest with himself, he’s also a little afraid of what he _could_ find in there.

He swallows hard, grips the handle and turns it.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

The door swings open silently. The light is on in the archive, and Dean can’t remember whether they left it that way. It’s not important.

It costs some effort to take a hesitant step back into this fateful room, his previous frantic momentum gone. Apprehension grips him, mixed with something bitter, like a foretaste of impending disappointment.

Steeling himself, he takes five decisive strides to clear the shelves, emerging into the open area of the interrogation chamber – and there, huddled against the back wall, just like he himself was a few days ago, sits a figure draped in a tan trench coat. Their face is hidden in the arms wrapped around their knees, but Dean doesn’t need to see it. The slant of those shoulder, the mop of dark hair are all too familiar.

“Cas!” he exclaims, the shock and wonder and sheer relief spilling from the one syllable fill the room floor to ceiling. In an instant, he’s there, falling to his knees beside his angel. The pressure inside him releases with such force that he all but collapses, fresh tears springing to his eyes. “Cas,” he repeats, the name wobbling on his lips, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice is weary, cautious as he lifts his head, face drawn and splotchy with dried tear tracks. Dean’s hands immediately move from gripping his shoulders to cradling Cas’s face.

“Dean!” Cas’s voice is stronger now, almost scandalised “How…?” But he doesn’t get to finish as Dean pulls him into a messy hug, right there on the floor, arms going around Cas in a vice grip, fingers winding into the back of the coat. Cas immediately clings back, face squished against Dean’s shoulder at an awkward angle.

For a while, they just hold each other.

Eventually the discomfort of their contorted position outweighs the need for immediate closeness. Neither of them has the strength to stand yet, though, so Dean just scoots around to sit beside Cas against the wall, making sure to keep as much contact as possible, pressing their sides together shoulder to thigh. He needs it right now, after everything that has happened, and he suspects Cas might need it too.

Cas is the first to speak, tight urgency in his words. “Dean, what happened? Where’s Billie? How are you even here? I thought… I thought the Empty had taken you instead of me!” His voice quivers on the last sentence, like the statement has been ripped from his very core, still raw and twitching.

Dean shakes his head, almost snorts a laugh. “Cas – Cas, _we won_.” As he is saying the words, a wild joy bubbles up in him. Suddenly, he knows that everything is going to be alright. “Jack defeated Chuck.”

Cas just stares at his face in awe, mouth half open, lost for words, clearly unable to fit both of their stories into a comprehensible narrative. It doesn’t surprise Dean. His face softens. “Ok, man, let’s start at the beginning. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Cas takes a shuddering breath, the pain of recent memories clouding his features. “I remember Billie chasing us in here. I summoned the Empty and I thought it was working. It thought it was taking me and her. But then…” He falters, dipping his head for a moment as he searches for words. “I regained consciousness here a few minutes ago, on the floor, and Billie was gone. The Empty was gone. But so were you! I thought…” Fresh tears are brimming in his eyes now. He dashes them away angrily. “I thought you were dead. I thought I had _failed_!” Now, the tears do fall.

Dean looks at Cas, taking in his agonised face, the sticky residue of guilt and self-loathing still evident in the crease of his brow, the desperate sadness in his eyes. He places a firm hand on Cas’s shoulder and makes sure their gazes catch and hold.

“You saved me, Cas.” Dean says matter-of-factly, gratitude welling up inside him. He tries to keep in mind that, to Cas, their separation feels a lot more recent than it does for him. He hasn’t had days to process. His wounds are still fresh, only minutes old, far from scabbing over. “I’m okay, because of what you did.”

Dean takes a deep breath. There is no urgency in him anymore. They made it. They have time. “It all worked out exactly as you planned. The Empty came. It took Billie and you. I caught up with Sam and Jack. By that point, Chuck had made every last living creature on this planet disappear just to spite us. It was a bit touch-and-go in the middle, there. Had a brief class project with both Michael and Lucifer, if you can believe it!”

Cas opens his mouth at that, looking ready to interrupt, but Dean forestalls him with a raised hand. When Cas nods at him to continue. He lets it sink back towards the floor. Dean tells himself it’s accidental that it settles on Cas’ wrist, the left one, now resting on Cas’ outstretched leg.

“Don’t worry, they are both gone now,” he reassures Cas. “but they charged up Jack pretty good. And then Chuck did the rest. Jack absorbed all of his power, and I mean _all_ of it, every last drop. Chuck’s just another helpless schmuck writhing in the dirt, last time I saw him.” Dean can’t suppress the smirk of satisfaction stealing onto his face. “Anyway, Jack brought everyone back… apparently including you.” He squeezes Cas’ wrist for emphasis. “So yeah, that’s about it.”

Cas looks at him, absorbing this information. Dean waits patiently for it all to sink in. Eventually, Cas swallows thickly. “Where’s Jack now?”

Dean feels his expression crumple for a moment. He tries to cover it up with a shrug. “Everywhere, according to him. Said he’d drop in for a beer at some point.” His pointedly casual tone isn’t enough to conceal the lingering ache of that particular goodbye. Cas doesn’t push. The explanation seems to make perfect sense to him.

They both look up as the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps reaches them. A second later, Sam’s huge frame appears in the doorway. “Dean! Where did you…” He trails off as he registers the person sitting next to his brother. “Cas?!”

Sam rushes across the room, sinking to the floor beside them, his knees touching Cas’s leg. “Oh my god, we thought you were dead!” He leans forward, drawing Cas into an embrace of his own, sniffling. He pulls back after a few moments, squeezing Cas’ shoulders. “It’s so good to have you back, man.” He says, with feeling, but his gaze slides from Cas’ face to Dean, expression soft and knowing.

Sam stands abruptly, offering each of them a hand. There are happy tears in his eyes, but he ignores them. “Eileen’s fine,” he informs them. “I just wanted to let you know I’m driving over there to pick her up.” He pauses, searching Dean’s face, then Cas’. “I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do.”

A sudden smile breaks out across his face. “Guys, we made it!” Surging forward again, he envelopes them both in another hug. There is nothing to add to that, so they just hold on to each other for a few more moments, revelling in the feeling of having their family here, alive and well.

Sam pulls away, already moving in his excitement to meet Eileen. “Ok, see you guys later.” And he’s out the door.

Glancing sideways at Cas, Dean clears his throat. He’s beginning to feel a little awkward now that the first rush of their reunion has passed, but he screws his courage. “Uhm, I think Sam is right. We… we should talk.”

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know! They still haven't talked about it! Looks like there will be another chapter shortly ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Cas is silent beside him as they leave the archive and walk down the bunker’s hallways to the upper level. There still is a certain alert anxiety radiating off him, his eyes scanning corners as he trails behind Dean. He clearly hasn’t quite adjusted to the fact that their apocalyptic crisis is over so abruptly.

Dean knows that this kind of nervousness is hard to shake. Sometimes, it can take days. But instead of dissipating, Dean can feel the tension that Cas still seems to be carrying pulling tighter with every step. In a way, it mirrors his own emotions, roiling under the joy of their reunion.

The further they move from room 7B, the more it feels like they are emerging back into reality. Cas’ fateful words still echo in Dean’s head – he doubts they will ever be silent, no matter what happens next between them. The trauma associated with them is just too powerful. – but it gets harder and harder to cling to their truth, uncertainty starting to cloud their meaning.

What if it’s all a big misunderstanding, the memory warped by Dean’s unreliable brain? What if it’s all projection and wishful thinking? What if Cas hadn’t meant what he’d said in the way Dean has interpreted it?

But something sparks in Dean, a kernel of resolution and conviction: It’s not important whether Cas’ declaration was platonic or not. This, now, is about how _Dean_ feels, and he is not going to give the regret of keeping silent another chance to overwhelm him. Even with Jack in the driving seat, there is no telling what the future holds. He deserves certainty, as does Cas!

Dean stops abruptly, trying to steel himself for the conversation he knows they need to have. Cas’ arm bumps into him as he turns to face the angel in the cramped hallway just outside the kitchen.

Cas raises weary eyes to Dean’s face.

Yes, it’s definitely time.

They speak almost at the same moment.

“Dean, I know you’re angr -” Cas begins. “I love you too,” Dean states firmly, cutting across Cas. He makes sure to look Cas in the eyes as he says it, even though it takes all the resolve he has.

Cas blinks at him, stunned speechless. Dean fidgets nervously. When Cas continues to just stare at him, he adds “Just… after what you said… I thought you should know.” It sounds… well, it sounds lame, even to his own ears.

As Cas continues to simply look at him, wide-eyed and mute, Dean suddenly feels like a colossal idiot. Of course Cas hadn’t meant it that way! It’s fine, Dean tells himself. At least now he doesn’t have to carry the weight of his hidden feelings any more. He sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets. So much for ‘talking about it’. He had never been good at that, anyway.

This is when Cas rediscovers his voice. He sounds cautious and so, _so_ insecure. “Dean, while I do appreciate the gesture, it was never my intention to… somehow compel you into… a reciprocative statement. I did what I had to in order to save you, and I did it gladly. I know how you feel about me and…”

“What?” Dean bristles. “No! No, this is not –“ Now, it’s Cas cutting him off. He seems to think he is doing Dean a favour in sparing him from having to explain himself. “It’s alright, Dean. I understand.” There is a complicated mix of emotions on Cas’ face. Sadness, embarrassment, fear, regret.

No, thinks Dean. All the other feelings he gets, but there should never be regret.

Then it hits him. Cas had said ‘I love you.’ He had said ‘You’ve changed me.’ – but before that, he had said ‘ _It’s something I know I can’t have_.’ Cas had been telling himself for a long time, years maybe, that Dean didn’t feel the same, maybe was incapable of it. It’s just so _Cas_ that he would be clinging to that one untruth amidst the pile of verity.

Meanwhile, Cas continues talking. Now that he has started, he seems unable to stop. “Of course, you are under no obligation to respond in kind. I understand if my regard for you makes you feel uncomfortable. In fact-“

“Shut up,” Dean says tightly, unable to bear the self-deprecation and hopelessness in Cas’ voice.

Cas doesn’t listen. “My friendship and devotion do not depend on reciprocality. They never have. You must know that. So I really hope that you will be able to forgive my indiscretion, but it was the only way I saw of saving you.”

“Cas, shut up!” Dean tries again, louder.

But Cas keeps babbling, words coming faster and faster. He seems to be talking himself into a state of panic that makes Dean’s own tension sky-rocket. “I wasn’t being untruthful when I said that just knowing how I feel makes me happy. Being your friend means more to me than I could ever say, and I don’t want you to think it’s not enough for me. I am aware that you could never be attracted to my male vessel, either. It’s –“

“I love you, damnit!” Dean roars, the echo bouncing off the green tiles of the corridor.

And that does silence Cas.

Dean uses the pause to plough on. “And yes, actually, you are right, I _am_ angry at you! You just dumped all that stuff about love and happiness on me and then you fucking _left_. You didn’t even give me a chance to respond, and you took away my right to decide what I wanted to do with that confession. You think you have it all figured out but I’m trying to tell you you’re wrong.” And damn, Dean can feel the tears returning to his eyes, called forth by the frustration of listening to Cas devalue himself and Dean’s feelings all in one go.

“You said I’ve changed you, but you’ve changed me, too, Cas. In more ways than I can count. I certainly don’t deserve to be on that pedestal you seem to want to put me on, and I sure as hell don’t do all the shit that I do out of love. But knowing you has taught me more about being human and about what it means to stand up for what’s right than anyone else I’ve ever known. Don’t you dare believe for one minute that I care about you any less than you do me.”

A tear detaches itself from his lashes. He wipes it away angrily. “I love you,” he repeats a third time, calmer now, “and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

“Dean…” Cas tries, uncertainty still tainting his words, and that’s just it.

“Aw, fuck it.” Dean murmurs and kisses him. His hands are cradling Cas’ face to angle his head better, but despite that, it’s an uncoordinated and inelegant manoeuvre. Still: it seems to work. Cas finally relaxes. After a moment, he returns the kiss willingly, almost desperately, grabbing on to Dean’s elbows with both hands to pull him in.

It only lasts a couple of seconds, but Dean is confident that it got his point across. Besides, there is no going back now. Cas looks at him, eyes glassy and lips wet. “Dean…” he breathes, and there it is, finally! Comprehension.

“Me too, Cas, okay? It’s _not_ something you can’t have. It never was. Just took me a while to see it myself.” Dean gently swipes his thumbs back and forth across Cas’ cheekbones, rubbing at old and new tear tracks.

Suddenly, Cas gives a watery bark of laughter, a smile taking root in his eyes that is hopefully here to stay. He pulls Dean into a full-bodied hug, chuckling against his shoulder. “We won?” he asks, relief and incredulity shining through.

Dean nods. “We won.”

The End?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie: chapter 3 gave me a lot of trouble, and I'm still not happy with it, to be honest. First, I couldn't figure out the location, so I couldn't visualize the scene. Then, Dean was very insistent that he wanted to speak up right now instead of working up to it, destroying my dialogue. On top of that, I have Dean monologuing! I swore to myself I wouldn’t do that.  
> Be that as it may, I hope you enjoyed this little coda. Please leave feedback. If inspiration strikes me, I may even go back and add another chapter at some point.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
